


Tesseract

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been a typical day of volunteering at her favourite bookshop in Diagon Alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tesseract

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarlettcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettcat/gifts).



> Sequel to [Tessella](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767079)

When Hermione unlocked the front door of _de Worde’s Robe_ , a prickling sensation made her pause on the threshold. Wand-ready, she glanced about. She finally noticed the book on the counter. A few spells later, she decided it was more innocuous than insidious but felt it prudent to keep an eye on it as she went around tidying up the shop before opening—casting the charms to dispel damp and vanish pulp-boring bugs, to return misplaced books to the appropriate categories, to reorient book titles so they could be read without the need to tilt one’s head from one side to another (another lovely trick Mr de Worde had devised was to make all the [non-oversized] books the same height so that they could be stacked for maximum storage and returned to their original sizes when pulled during browsing), to repair damages to covers and pages that had been unceremoniously stuffed between other books, to add the fingerprints of mistreaters of the aforementioned books on the blacklist so that said offending fingers would be jinxed boneless the next time they touched any book in the shop (her invention), and to reorganize some of the more popular sections so that browsing would be a newish experience for returning customers (she chose to arrange them by length of bibliography this time)—because, for one thing, she couldn’t decipher the strange runes on its cover. 

Her instincts were sound.

The first hour after opening passed as usual. But as the day wore on and the customer traffic increased, the number of incidents also accrued. At first, they manifested as the occasional book being dislodged from random shelves. This wasn’t too worrying, given the height of the bookcases; and besides, no one was hurt. Also, a customer or two had shouted “I’m so sorry” or “look out below”. Later on, however, Hermione began receiving more and more complaints that pages were going blank as they were perused, yet when she examined them, they seemed fine. Then, there were the books that moved, sneezed, threatened to bite, or vanished when anyone reached for them. Finally, startled cries and screams sounded as the ladders began shifting in a manner most reminiscent of the Hogwarts staircases. 

The mysterious book had also disappeared at one point while Hermione had gone to assist a patron. 

She announced the shop would be closing early and ushered her customers from the store, apologizing profusely and assuring them she would have things sorted before the shop reopened again. She shut the door and cast three different spells on it to prevent anything from escaping. She repeated the process with all the other escape routes. Then, she went in search of the missing book. 

The usual locator spells and summoning charms failed to retrieve it. Narrowing the search to titles with foreign, archaic, or obsolete runes did not bring the book to light. She tried a colour-coded categorization spell by age of residence to narrow down her search. She still didn’t find the book among the small handful that had only arrived within the past week.

Hermione took a deep breath. She was a bit miffed, but then, she had known Fred and George for some years.

“ _Weaziesa Accio_ book!” 

The tome soared into her hand. It vibrated slightly, as if put out for being found. Hermione smirked. She was quite proud of this modification spell she’d created that allowed her to acquire unexpected objects or produce randomized results. She cast an immobilization charm and tucked the volume into her shoulder bag.

Now, to figure out what it was and where to safely contain it.

***

The most obvious place to bring the book for thorough examination was the Department of Mysteries. Padma Patil received it with enthusiasm after Hermione explained her dilemma.

A week later, there was a knock on her office door.

“Come in, Padma. Any luck?”

“Well, we determined there aren’t any jinxes, hexes, or curses on it, no entrapped wizard or magical creature, and that it is definitely not made by or about the Dark Arts.”

“That’s good to know! But, what _is_ it?”

“We’re still not sure because it is resisting all attempts of deciphering. All we’ve been able to surmise is that the runes are in Old Norse.”

“Hmmm. I guess I’ll need to take a day off and make a trip to the Nordic Ministry of Magic. Thanks so much, Padma!”

***

Hermione’s trip was delayed when her department head learned of her intended destination. A quick meeting was held and tasks assigned “to save me the trouble of going to the Nordic Ministry next week”. The British Ministry was hoping to negotiate for more honey to be imported from their collective countries.

Hermione looked over Leveson-Gower’s third draft and sighed. How did he ever manage to become Head with such atrocious spelling and grammar? She dipped her quill into the red ink.

The Portkey was scheduled for half-nine on the Tuesday. Hermione paused a moment to admire the clean lines, the spaciousness, the calm white and pale pine of the Atrium before following her guide to the conference room. The Nordic representatives were very eager to cooperate; their population were keen on having Pepper-Up Potion more readily available.

When the meeting ended with both parties satisfied, Hermione asked for a few minutes of her Nordic colleague’s time. She explained that she had come into possession of a book that appeared to be an Old Norse tome and that she would happily return it if it was indeed the rightful property of the Nordic government. 

The Nordic representative, Lykke, did not understand Old Norse and brought Hermione to their ministry’s library to meet their resident scholar. The bright smile slipped from scholar Tuva’s face when she read the title. A fierce, whispered exchange occurred. After a few minutes, an embarrassed Lykke placed the book in Hermione’s hands and informed that although the tome was indeed written in Old Norse, they were unable to house it in their library (and implied that no other library in any of the Nordic states would receive it). Their ministry had only recently completed their planned restructuring, and they could not afford to upset the new balance. 

Puzzled, Hermione returned the book to her briefcase and pondered where next to turn.

***

Hermione’s heart gave a tiny leap at the sight of the front doors of Hogwarts. A moment later, she disembarked from the carriage and petted the pair of Thestrals in thanks. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

Before she had even made it to the foot of the main staircase, Hermione was startled by screams. A handful of students were running down the corridor, chased by a water balloon-pelting Peeves. They crashed into her. Hermione stumbled but managed to regain her footing. Peeves cackled with glee as she wiped water from her eyes. She sighed and magicked the new balloons to turn on their maker. The students cheered but soon scrambled out of the way when the balloons vanished and Peeves began throwing stink pellets. She rolled her eyes and transformed them into lemon-scented soap bubbles. Before he could do more devilry, Hermione conjured ropes about his arms and legs and then a gag. With Peeves temporarily incapacitated, she checked on the students for injuries and spell-dried their clothes and hair. They said their thanks and dispersed. 

“Oooo, what’s the mammoth-toothed moggy got in her bag? Bet she won’t want the owls to add their own commentary to the back pages!” 

Hermione wheeled around and saw Peeves extracting the book from her shoulder bag, which she’d dropped in the commotion. To her astonishment, Peeves went suddenly stockstill. His eyes widened… and then, very carefully, he used his sleeve to wipe away imaginary specks of dust and dirt from the cover.

Peeves hovered a few inches from her and gravely presented the tome with both hands. After Hermione received it, he gave it a deep, reverential bow and drifted away backwards, still in that posture.

More confused than ever, Hermione made her way to the library. Madam Pince gave her a rare smile as they exchange pleasantries. She perused the pages as Hermione explained her adventures thus far.

“Intriguing. Well, Miss Granger, it’s a pity that Professor Dumbledore is no longer with us in the flesh. I’m sure he would have taken an interest in this book. As such, I will gladly hold it for some future student to study and decode.” Her smile broadened at Hermione’s look. “This library has survived not only generations of unruly students but an attack on the castle from He-Who-Remains-Unnamed and his Death Eaters. I’m sure it will be quite safe in the Restricted Section.”

Madam Pince grabbed a long, slender chain and entered the cordoned-off area. A loud, affronted tremour greeted her. Every book down the rows of the Restricted Section rumbled and knocked angrily against the shelves. The librarian and Hermione exchanged bewildered glances. Slowly, with appeasement, Madam Pince stepped away from the area. The noise gradually dissipated.

Back at her desk, Madam Pince frowned at the volume in her hands. “How very odd. This has never happened before. Not even the books on the deadliest curses nor the ones you’d returned containing information about Horcruxes caused any stir. There is something unquestionably unique about this book, although I have no idea what…” She looked thoughtfully toward a corner of the library. She turned back to look at Hermione and, weighing her words carefully, said, “There is only one other place that I know that might capably house such a book. I will speak with my colleague. If he is amenable, I will introduce you and let you recount your story. Please follow me.”

Hermione was staggered to learn that there was a hidden part of the library she’d never discovered in all her years of exploration. Of course she hadn’t managed to read even a tiny fraction of the whole collection, but she always thought she’d covered every inch of the space in her desire to know what books were available and where they might be located for future perusal. As she followed the librarian, her dismay increased as she passed row upon row of topics she’d never encountered before. 

They eventually made their way to another wooden information desk. Madam Pince spoke quietly to the attendant, who shrugged and pointed an uncertain finger toward one part of the library. Madam Pince huffed but nodded and asked Hermione to wait while she went in search of her colleague.

Hermione nodded and smiled at the attendant, who gulped and returned a wobbly smile of sorts.

“Um, I’m assuming that we’re somehow in a different library. May I ask where we are?”

“Oh, well, um, the University’s library. All the great libraries are interconnected, y-you know. C-convenient when you need an obscure reference and, um, not enough time to waste travelling the miles to get to where it is. Better to use it researching, eh? Even with the new express trains, i-it’s still a hassle. N-not that everyone’s allowed to use the interspace, of course. All th-the Head Librarians c-can use it for, er, convenience and bring guests, though they’re mostly scholars a-and others with, um, long beards. You’re the first Pince has brought, er, I think. What’s your specialty?”

“Actually, I’m not—”

“Miss Granger, if you’ll follow me.”

“Excuse me… and thanks for the explanation!” 

Hermione followed Madam Pince down one of the aisles. She completely forgot her manners and stared when the librarian introduced her colleague. “He” was a large orangutan.

“Miss Granger, if you’d let my colleague see the book…” 

Hermione blinked and handed over the tome. 

“Ook.” The orangutan grabbed the book and sniffed it. “Ook! Ook-ook-ook. Ook! **OOK!** ” He threw it back at Hermione. She caught it but stepped back a few steps from the impact.

“Language! I’m fully aware that the book is a bothersome object, but there is absolutely no need for such a tone! And you can rest assured that I shall mention your antiquated attitudes toward women to both Eskarina _and_ Mistress Weatherwax. _Wizards!_ Come, Miss Granger. We have apparently overstayed our welcome.”

When they returned to Hogwarts, Hermione and Madam Pince paid a visit to the Headmistress’ Office and informed Professor McGonagall about all that had transpired. McGonagall pursed her lips. Shen then glanced at Dumbledore’s portrait.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Don’t mind Horace, Irma. He was always nervous around women. He means no offense, I’m sure. Now, Miss Granger, I would advise you consult with someone or someones with unconventional opinions on scholarship and magic. A different perspective may shed some light on the matter.” 

His eyes twinkled.

***

Hermione stepped wearily out of her fireplace. A sharp hiss greeted her.

“There you are. I was wondering if I should alert the Auror Office and get Potty and Weasel King to chase across the country for you. I may do that in any case, give their sorry arses some exercise.” 

Hermione glared at the smirking Draco petting her irate cat. Crookshanks was still spitting at her shoulder bag. The first night Hermione had brought home the book after the tests done by Deep-Mysts, it had wreaked havoc. Her entire kitchen was rearranged. Her books kept moving out of reach when she’d tried to return them to her bookcases. Her clothes were turned into the most hideous colours imaginable. It was a good thing none of Crookshanks’ possessions had been disturbed. Nonetheless, her pet did not appreciate the chaos and had wrested the volume from her bag and threatened it with physical harm. The book had since behaved—although it had not seen fit to reverse its actions—but Crookshanks still eyed it with suspicion. 

She placed the bag in a corner by the door and collapsed onto her sofa. She let Crookshanks snuggle into her lap and Draco plant a soft kiss. 

“No luck with Pince, then?”

“No. Not even her colleague at a different library would take it.” She detailed her day, noting the curious expression on the orangutan’s face at the mention of the mysterious Mistress Weatherwax.

“So… now you speak Monkey on top of those other grunts and squeaks that pass off as ‘species communication’?”

“Orangutans are not monkeys. They’re apes. They share the same classification of _Hominidae_ as we do—”

“Sexy as your professorial voice is, I’m really not interested in all that science rubbish—”

“It’s not rubbish! The scientific method is all about evidence! They’re constantly refining and redefining theories based on data collected; scientific theories aren’t just crazy conclusions pulled out of someone’s arse, unlike the drivel that— _mmmphhh_ —Fine, if you’re happy with being wilfully ignorant, we can talk about— _mmmmphhhh_ …”

“It’s almost past dinner hour. Can we at least discuss things over food?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already ordered take-away.”

“I have, as a matter of fact, and it’s getting cold—”

“Oh, please. You have a warming charm on it. What are we having?”

“Bananas.”

“Oh, ha-ha.”

“All of a sudden, you no longer like strawberry and banana crêpes? I guess I’ll have to think of a new dessert…”

“I like them just fine. And stop teasing. What’s for dinner?”

“ _Bacalhau a Gomes de Sa_.”

“And _Caldo Verde_?”

Draco sniffed. “Of course.”

Hermione was more famished than she realized, so dinner was spent in relative peace and quiet. 

When they finally cozied before the fireplace, Draco said, “I’ve been analyzing your little excursions today, and I don’t believe it a wasted trip.”

“I never said it was. I just haven’t had time to think about it.”

“You know that Peeves and Dumbledore confirmed the suspicions we’ve had.”

“Mischief.”

“Exactly. So, it’s obvious whom you should approach.”

“But what can they possibly do with a book written in Old Norse runes? They can’t even read any other language except English.”

“Maybe they have a product that could decrypt it.”

“And what if this turns out to be the ultimate mischief maker’s manual?”

“You get to ensure your troublesome best friends are gainfully employed? Ow!”

“If it does turn out to be the definitive guide to mayhem, I’m suggesting you as their guinea pig.”

***

Fred and George were busy serving other customers when Hermione stepped foot into their shop. She casually browsed the shelves and displays to see if there were any new products. As she ventured further into the space, she felt the book hum. In contentment. She shook her head and started filling her basket with favourites to replenish her stock at home.

“Hermione! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” George gave her a hug.

“How are Luna and the baby? Is he on a sleeping schedule, finally?”

“Nope, not yet! But don’t worry, my Lunilicious will come up with something. Now, are you looking for something in particular or just restocking?”

“Actually, I’ve come to consult with you both.”

“Really? Well, why don’t you step into the back? Fred and I will be with you in a mo’.”

When the twins joined her in their office, Hermione gave a condensed summary of her history with the book. They rubbed their hands in glee as she pulled it out of her bag. To her astonishment, the runes had morphed into a golden cursive that read “Tales of the Trickster”. Hermione flipped to the table of contents.

George whooped. “They’re stories! Like Beedle the Bard! Hey, maybe I should bring this home for bedtime reading with the sprog!”

The following day, Hermione received a bouquet of edible confectionery spiders _en flambé_ with a note of gratitude from Luna. Apparently, after his daddy had read him the first tale, little Crevyn slept through the night, a full ten hours.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: an odd book


End file.
